


What's In A (Nick)name?

by FlyoutViolet (SleepySappho)



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Flirting, Gay, Kissing, Locker Room, Nicknames, No Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26116057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepySappho/pseuds/FlyoutViolet
Summary: "Kissin' Kichiro" Guerra enjoys a pre-game visit from Allison "Nail Bat" Abbott.
Relationships: Allison Abbot (Blaseball)/Kichiro Guerra (Blaseball)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	What's In A (Nick)name?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is pretty much entirely inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/MLeeLunsford/status/1298107217212608512?s=19) piece of Kichiro/Allison art by [M Lee Lunsford](https://twitter.com/MLeeLunsford?s=09) from yesterday, which burrowed into my brain and refused to let me have peace until I appeased it with 1600 words of gay yearning.
> 
> Btw if you found this by being a reader of my SPOP fics or my Twitter or something, all you really need to know is that Blaseball is a lot like baseball except different and several of the players are extremely attractive women, at least according to my headcanons. Also I'm sorry.

Kichiro Guerra is not really sure how she ended up here. She's never even _watched_ Blaseball before, let alone played it, but here she is in a strange city in a strange airplane-hanger-cum-stadium, about to walk out in front of a crowd of thousands and play Blaseball _professionally_. 

The rest of the Lovers have already left the locker room, heading out to the field and leaving Kichiro behind to unbutton and rebutton her cropped uniform shirt for the fifteenth time. Her fingers shake, slightly, and she manages to put the wrong button in the wrong hole, _again._

_What am I doing here? Why did I agree to this?_

_I want to go home._

She doesn't notice the locker room's other occupant until a wooden _thunk_ startles her out of her panicked reverie, and she spins around, shirt halfway-unbuttoned. The first thing she sees is a blaseball bat, leaning tip-down against the locker room bench. Totally unremarkable, except for the dozens of nails hammered into it at haphazard angles.

The second thing she notices is the woman who just set it down. 

She's slightly taller than Kichiro, wearing her uniform over a striped shirt with a flannel tied around her waist, messy blonde hair spilling out of her fraying cap with a half-hearted ponytail sticking out the back. Almost everything about her, from her demeanor to her outfit to her expression to _the nails in her bat_ screams "Don't Fuck With Me".

Allison "Nail Bat" Abbot. 

Kichiro's heard her name before, tossed around by her other team members as a hitter to watch out for, a formidable opponent. They _hadn't_ mentioned that she was so… _this._

Kichiro's still busy trying to figure out what "this" is, exactly, when Allison steps closer, resting a hand on the locker next to Kichiro's head. Her sour expression quirks up into a confident smirk that makes Kichiro's stomach do a couple quick cartwheels and a beam dismount and her brain immediately lose track of every word of every language she's ever learned. 

Fortunately, Allison doesn't seem to be in any rush, despite the upcoming game, and waits there, smiling, for the San Francisco player to string a sentence together. 

"Uh…" Kichiro starts, in a voice that feels _smaller_ than normal somehow, "what are you doing here?" 

Allison shrugs, languidly, her shoulders rolling in a smooth motion that draws Kichiro's eyes down from her face for a moment. "Thought I'd come check out the competition." 

Kichiro realizes her shirt is still half unbuttoned as the other woman's eyes briefly flick down. Allison's smile somehow gets a little more smug. 

Kichiro feels her face burning and she tries to rapidly do up her shirt, hands shaking even more than before, and she managed to misalign the buttons even worse this time before she feels soft hands on hers, stilling them firmly but _gently._ When Kichiro looks back up to meet Allison's gaze, she finds that smile is still smug but… not unkind, somehow. 

"Here," Allison Abbott says, voice so low and soft and scratchy that it sounds exactly like a scalp massage feels, "let me." She pulls Kichiro's hands away from the buttons, presses them back against the cool metal of the lockers behind her, and releases them, fingers precisely matching each button to its corresponding hole with a care that belies her own casual appearance. She fastens the top button and as her hands pull away again the tips of her fingers ghost against Kichiro's collarbone, making the shorter woman shiver despite the warmth of the room. 

"There," Allison says and _oh god_ she's standing close enough now that Kichiro can feel the warmth of her breath when she talks. 

"Thanks," Kichiro breathes, tilting her head up slightly to make eye contact. Her eyes are green. Kichiro's pretty sure that was her favorite color when she woke up this morning. Even if it wasn't, it sure as _hell_ is now. 

Neither woman speaks for a long moment, just meeting each other's eyes and drifting almost imperceptibly closer, the distance between them shrinking until all Kichiro can think about is how _soft_ that flannel looks, how strong and sharp Allison's jawline is, how she smells like fresh, warm laundry in a way that makes Kichiro want to just _bury_ her face in that scent for as long as she possibly can and—

She's been staring too long, _shit,_ she's been staring _way_ too long, she needs to say _something_ —

"I like your bat," she blurts out, shattering the strange intensity humming between them, and Allison pulls back, face settling back into that smug grin. 

"Yeah?" She says, crossing her arms. "I nailed it myself." 

"Well, you must be pretty good at that. Nailing, I mean. With nails! Nailing nails into things, not nailing other _things_ with uh, your, uh, I mean..." Allison just smiles and lets her keep digging her own grave, "Not that I'm saying you're _not_ good at, uh, that, not that I want to know, I mean not that I _don't_ want to know it's just none of my business but it's not like knowing about that would be _bad_ I just don't have any particular interest one way or the other—"

Kichiro stops and shoves her face in her hands, groaning. This is the worst. The worst thing that's ever happened to her.

Allison grabs her hands again, pulls them away from her face, making a very sweet and noble effort not to laugh out loud. "You wanna try that again?" 

Kichiro nods sullenly. She doesn't let go of Allison's hands. 

"What I mean is, uh, I guess I didn't expect your nickname to be so literal." 

Allison hums thoughtfully, her thumb stroking softly over the knuckles on Kichiro's left hand. "What about yours?"

"M-mine?"

"Yeah," Allison says, something strange and dark and _interesting_ in her eyes, "your nickname. I hear they call you "Kissin' Kichiro"." 

Kichiro absolutely cannot look away. Which is good, because she has absolutely no desire to. "Uh, yeah. They do."

Allison's face is just a little bit closer now, her eyes looking up and down Kichiro's face like she can't decide if she'd rather stare at her eyes or her lips. "So how _literal_ is that?" 

There's no reason Kichiro should be this flustered. She's kissed before. She's kissed _girls_ before, even ones with soft hair and soft eyes and soft lips like Allison but—

Something about this woman from Seattle makes her heart threaten to beat out of her chest, makes her feel shorter and smaller than she really is in the _best_ possible way, makes her feel just a tiny bit weak and helpless in a way that is somehow exhilarating. She doesn't really have a name for the feeling that's settling into her bones right now, but she knows she likes it.

Wants _more._

"Why don't you find o—" is all she manages before Allison's mouth is on hers and she's _sighing_ into the kiss because, _fuck_ if this isn't everything she never knew she needed, if this woman's lips pressing against hers isn't making her feel like everything is right in the world, if the way her tongue is slipping into her mouth isn't the unnammed subject of every one of her late-night fantasies—

Kissing Allison Abbott is playing with fire. It's a little bit too much teeth in a way that Kichiro's worried she's going to get _used_ to. It's hot and exciting and heart-racing but also warm, soft, _safe_ in a way that has Kichiro unashamed to be whimpering into another woman's mouth in the locker room a handful of minutes before a game. It's the taste of coffee and rain and fresh ink on printer paper, it's the hand that's slowly settling on her exposed midriff, it's the stray blonde hairs that keep finding their way into her mouth, it's… 

It's _perfect._

When Allison finally pulls away years later, her cheeks are dusted pink and her smug look is absolutely shattered, replaced with something soft and astonished and _wanting_ that makes Kichiro feel like an actual fucking goddess, like she must be the most beautiful woman on earth, if Allison Abbott is going to look at her like _that_. 

Allison just stares at her for a moment, breaths heavy and ragged, before taking off her cap and running a hand through her thick hair. "Fuck," she says, voice strained. "You are so—" she stops and runs the hand through her hair again. " _Fuck,_ " she repeats, and Kichiro can't help but laugh, thrilling at how flustered cool, unflappable "Nail Bat" Abbott is, over _her._

Allison shoots her a look that's probably supposed to be a glare but just ends up looking unbearably fond. "Guess it's a pretty literal nickname after all," she says, smiling. 

Loud, sudden music from the stadium outside pulls them both out of the moment, and Allison jumps, looking impossibly, adorably _sheepish_ as she backs away from Kichiro. "I, I need to get going," she says, "gotta go, uh, play some blaseball." 

Kichiro giggles and gives her a small wave. "Have fun out there, Abbott." 

Allison grins, wide and bright and honest. "You too, Gu—" she backs up into the bench and trips over it, the impact sending her bat crashing to the floor along with her. Kichiro's about to help her up when she jumps to her feet, face burning bright red as she snatches up her bat. "I'm good!" She says, edging towards the exit. "Uh, break a leg. Good luck. Or something." 

She has a foot halfway out the door when Kichiro sings out "Oh, _Allison_ ," stopping her dead in her tracks. "I'll see you after the game tonight?" Kichiro asks, unable to contain the glee in her voice now that it's _her_ turn to be smug. 

Allison looks back over her shoulder and reaches up to adjust her hat, smiling. "Count on it, Guerra." 

Kichiro Guerra _loves_ Blaseball. 

**Author's Note:**

> What's this ship name. Kichabbott? NailAndKiss? Idk but it's cute
> 
> Anyway you can follow me on Twitter @SleepySaph but only if you're over 18 it's the wild west over there but ya know, with lesbians


End file.
